𝔗𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 
I. BLOODSHED 

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⋆｡˚﹕121  AC ⎯ 𝖣𝖱𝖨𝖥𝖳𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖪

THE WIND HOWLED so much that the windows of Aemma's guest chambers rattled. The young princess was glad she was shielded and protected underneath the warmth of her blankets. Yet she had the blood of the dragon. She would not let herself be so frazzled by the wind. It took time for her to fall asleep and when she did, she was shaken awake, her two cousins Baela and Rhaena looming over her.

"What is the matter?" Aemma murmured sleepily, pushing the thick blankets off her body to reveal her nightdress.

"Vhagar has been stolen," Baela whispered detached and dazed standing before Aemma with her sister Rhaena by her side. "My mother's dragon."

Aemma frowned, how could someone do such a thing? It was unprecedented. Maneuvering her body to the edge of the bed, Aemma stood, the flooring cold against her bare feet. The hour was late and everyone was to be abed. Already, Aemma was planning, considering the outcomes of the situation and who would have dared to commit an act of such betrayal.

Aemond. He was the only one aside from Rhaena who had not claimed a dragon. Vhagar was the largest of dragons. It was fitting for him to attempt to bond with a dragon almost the size of Balerion, known as the Black Dread.

"We will dress quickly. It would be improper to wander the cold in our nightdresses," The young princess declared, moving across her chambers to open the chest that contained her dresses. "Then we shall fetch my brothers and together uncover what has occurred."

Aemma wore a dress the colour of lilac, a homage and combination to both houses she descended from. Baela and Rhena returned to her quickly once Aemma had collected her two brothers Jace and Luke.

Together, they travelled down the hallway ignoring the salt-stained walls and damp smell. In the dim light Aemma spoke, a mere soft whisper to her twin, "I'll go look for mother."

"Very well sister," Jace affrimed in agreement.

Aemma did not find her mother in her chamber appartments or anywhere else for that matter. It was not uncommon for her mother to be restless and disappear when it all got too much. She was most likely distaught over the death of her most beloved friend and companion. 

The wind danced through Aemma's sliver hair as she hurriedly descended the stone steps, her breaths came uneasy and her panic grew. The festivities still lingered into the night and Aemma knew it was not wise to be caught.

A laugh was all Aemma heard first. A delirious laugh, one maddened and raw.

"Aegon," Aemma whispered, his name rolling over her tongue. The sight of him slouched against the wall, still dressed in his finery and a cup of wine within his reach, suddenly placed a great sense of worry within her heart.

Was he hurt?

Aemma peered downwards, her footing hesitant as she stepped closer. Aegon was cruel sometimes, to everyone really but especially amongst her brothers and uncles. A wicked prince from a fairytale. If the way he and Aemond had spoke before it was possible that Helena would be his princess. She was good and kind and lovely. Aemma hoped it was one without a tragical end.

"Aegon," Aemma whispered again, more urgent, she tapped him with her foot and he stirred and blinked drinking in the sight of his niece. Perfectly presentable in her gleaming iliac dress and sliver locks that danced in the wind. She bore a look of serene uncertainty, a innocence that was otherworldly even from his sister. Aemma was merely a girl, aside from her titles, not maddened by twisted words. She did not know that it was his cups of wine that led him to be disastrously over indulged. A sight that would bring embarrassment upon his mother and father ⎯⎯ his house even.

"Leave me be, little niece."

"Very well. I hope you know that you should be in bed. The hour is much too late," Aemma decided, slowly reeling herself away from the matter at hand. It was not her responsibility to care for Aegon.

"Wait!" He murmured just loud enough for Aemma to have heard and she stopped turning. For a moment Aemma thought that he would say something heartfelt, kind even.

"Can you fetch me another?" The words burned through Aemma, sending a feeling of both enragement and discomfort all at once. How could someone be so agitating?

"No," Aemma said, sighing with a roll of her blue eyes. "Fetch it yourself."

"I'll let you have a sip," Aegon promised, suddenly more awake to the realm. Aemma was not a fool.

"I am not yet of age. Is it not improper?"

Aegon smiled at his niece and when her words settled in laughter stumbled from his lips, his eyes squinting ever so slightly in the darkness. Aemma had not heard him laugh like that before. Not so freely or not forced.

"What is the harm in having a little fun?" Aegon told Aemma. Aemma could not find the words to respond. How could she say that she felt heavy and burdened? It was best to keep those thoughts to herself.

Soon enough Aemma was distracted and was startled by the sound of her dragon, Firedancer. Aemma would recognise the roar of her dragon no matter what or where. From the way it sounded it was one of distress and alarm, panic lodged itself deep in the pits of her stomach. It was a warning.

"I must go," Aemma whispered and without saying goodbye she wandered down the steps onto the beach.

"Aemma wait⎯⎯," Aegon spoke, slowly rising from the damp and cold stone to follow after her. But it was too late, the Princess was gone.

WHEN AEMMA REUNITED with her brothers and cousins Baela and Rhaena the world stood still. There was something wrong in the way Aemond held himself, the way he strutted and held his head high. Aemma couldn't deny the feeling that she knew she had been too late. She had been distracted and foolish. Aemma had checked upon Firedancer quickly. The dragon as dark as night and half the size of Vhagar but what she lacked in size she gained in speed. Aemma's dragon had been restless, resting upon sands of Blackwater Bay. It seemed that the dragon was much like her dragonrider.

"Jace, what are we doing?" Lucerys whispered, tucking into his sister's side who was beside Jacaerys. Aemma looked to Lucerys and she shook her head ever so slightly. It was telling him: be careful. The three siblings, huddled together. Protective and wary.

"It's him," Baela spat. Aemma found that she was riddled with uneasiness.

"It's me," Aemond admitted with a smirk.

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon," Rhaena spoke. Aemma could see what was brewing.

"Your mother is dead. . . And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim," Rhaena spoke firmly but deep down it was evident that her mother's death had left her broken and bruised. Driftmark and Vhagar were all Rhaena could see that remained of her mother.

"Then you should have claimed her! Maybe your cousins should find you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

With rageful scream Rhaena threw herself at Aemond only to be pushed to the ground. Aemma found herself lost and beyond herself, far far away. She had spent nights upon nights training with her brothers or Ser Harwin Strong in secret. All that she had learnt, all that she had been training for in a moment like this, seemingly had vanished from her mind.

All Aemma could do was reach for her cousin, lifting and steading her upon Rhaena feet. In those moments, Baela threw a punch at Aemond and in the quiet moment of disbelief and horror Baela found herself shoved onto the floor.

"Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" Aemond roared.

Jacaerys lunged forwards, strategically sparring with Aemond for a few moments before falling to the ground. Aemma's eyes widened like saucers, her blue orbs ringed with purple slowly transforming into bubbling and brewing anger.

Walk, don't run. Breathe with every strike and blow. Face your opponent.

"Fight me," Aemma whispered. She would not let him touch Lucerys. She had shielded her brother for as long she could. It was her turn.

"Very well," Aemond spoke with a bloodied lip.

Aemma found herself chilled to the bone. There was something monstrous and cruel in his gaze. Aemond did not hover or waste a moment, Aemma was fumbling and tumbling over the hem of her dress but she held strong, focusing. Aemma rose her hand, no longer hesitant and her fist rang true against Aemond cheek and failing to block his blow Aemma fell onto the ground.

Lucerys screams at the sight of sister on the ground, blood dripping from her lip and nose, defeated and worn. Aemma was trying to move, to fight again. Lucerys throws himself at Aemond only to receive a blow to his nose and screams at its impact.

Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys lauch themselves at Aemond, smothering him in punches and blows. Aemma tumbles to Lucerys, crouching down, helping him to his feet. There is a look in his brown eyes: anger. It was a feeling Aemma had suddenly known all to well. Together they both attack Aemond before he slowly defeats them one by one. 

Aemond's hand tightens around Lucerys' neck and in a mere moment brings a large stone to his other hand.

"You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!" Aemond warns, "Bastards."

Aemond lowers the rock, amused after studying Lucerys. His gaze shifts to Aemma and Jacaerys and smiles.

"My father is still alive," Lucerys cries oblivious to the rumours whispered amongust the Red Keep.

"He doesn't know, does he, Lord and Lady Strong?"

Aemma pales and Jacerys beside her stills before he seethes the knife from his side. Before Aemma can stop him, Jacaerys lunges for Aemond gently swiping his brother behind him, safe beside his sister. Aemma looks to her hands smothered in her own blood. She feels sick and disgusted. Aemond was her kin, her uncle. How could he be so vile and cruel?

"What are you doing to do little bastard girl?" Aemond taunts with a smirk.

"Aemma don't," Baela warns, reaching for her cousin.

Aemond is prepared. He flurries each blow Aemma makes until she stumbles on her feet landing on the rough surface with her hand at an odd angle as he uses the stone in his grasp to hit her in the stomach. Pain shoots both up her wrist and ankle. Aemma whimpers watching Aemond rise the stone, lifting it to smash onto his niece.

Aemma closes her eyes, bracing for the impact of it ⎯⎯ including the searing, agonising pain that is coming. Instead it doesn't. Jacaerys swipes the gritty sand from his palm straight into Aemond eyes to be blinded. Lucerys drives Jacaerys' knife across Aemond's eye and he screams at the impact of the blade, tumbling backwards with his blood staining and oozing against his fingers.

 Ser Harrold Westerling came through, along with another two of the Kingsguard. His voice was stern and filled with great authority: "Cease this at once!"

"Sister," Jacaerys whispers urgently, offering a hand. "Please try to stand."

Aemma looks to Lucerys first. His face was freckled with blood and his pudgy nose was at a slight odd angle and swollen. She was shaking. Jacaerys was focused upon his twin. All that had transpired had ceast to exist. It seemed Lucerys was like that too. The three were kin. Family and blood. No matter what they would protect one another, just as the three do when they play knights.

Spools of green, spools of black, the doom comes in flames of ash and fire.